Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Strangers' Secret

As I finally finished packing for tomorrow's (or I should say today's) trip, I settled in and did what I usually do to relax and end my day. I turn on music, and chat and help mod a site called TeenSpot

Now if you don't know what TeenSpot is, it's well basically a place where teens (they accept users up to age 25, with good conduct of course) can come together either to chat online or go over to the forum and talk with other users. Aside from the username and their custom profile, that's pretty much it when it comes to learning who each users are.

Anyways, tonight, as I am finishing up Trauma (good show, by the way, if you haven't seen it, I'd really check out the series) on Hulu, a bunch of people over at the site decided to talk about secrets. No rules on what to say, just type "Secrets:" and share what you want. And of course, no one there was judging any of the secrets that each user said...

As I sat there reading each and every line, I started to wonder if sharing secrets with strangers would be the best way to go. As one user said it, "What can be better than sharing secrets with strangers?" I thought it would be easy, as I see the number of users constantly writing their own secrets in the chat room.

So I wrote something also. I said,

I am not as strong as people think I am. I laugh about it, I joke about it but it's what hurts me and kills me the most, not some days, every. Single. Day.

I lay awake in bed thinking of that day and I wake up from nightmares of that day. Just to do it all over again.

Someone in the chat then told me how depressing that sounds and I thought to myself, it does and it's true...of which made me thought how hard it was for me to type that, even in a room full of strangers. How much it hurt for me to type it and read my own words on the screen.

It's not a secret, it's just something I try to hide from those around me. (Including my parents) I am not a transparent person at all and though I wish to be one, my fears and worries tend to keep me from being so.

And sitting here at this hour, with a few hours before we must leave for the airport, I've decided to write some of my darkest secret down in this entry and as much as it hurts me now and probably will in the future, I need to vent. I need to some how let this heavy burden out knowing that it may still be inside of me for the rest of my life. I guess you can call this the first step to something better.

At least I sure hope it is.

I am not as strong as people think I am.

1. I laugh about my injury, I joke about the chair but it's what hurts me and kills me the most, not some days, Every. Single. Day.

I lay awake in bed thinking of the day my life changed forever and I wake up from nightmares of my Mom crying, Coaches staring, and my brain telling me to get up, but I just couldn't. Like a movie, my brain is playing the events over and over again. And right now, I can't stop this movie. It's a horror film and I am sick of hearing and seeing it but I don't know how to make it stop. This movie's been playing for 3 years now and like a child, I still get scared, no, horrified of it. Every. Single. Time.

2. Whether is on-line or in person, when I see, talk to, or meet a person in the military or a Veteran, I hurt. Hurt to a point that I am physically in pain. When people are talking about going to Afghan soon or going to basic soon, it eats at me slowly. It's a cruel and unusual punishment.

It gets worse when I hear people bitching about their MOS or how much hell a deployment was. I want punch 'em in the face, break their nose, and most likely scream at 'em with tears in my eyes telling 'em how much I want to join, how much I would love going over there with my unit, with my battle buddies, and no matter how much "Hell" it is on a deployment, I'd love it anyways because it's my job. And fuck, I love this job.

But I can't. And seeing pictures of my friends (and even strangers) in uniform, I hurt. My soul is being eaten away because this is not me. My heart and soul is elsewhere. It's at basic, at AIT, OSUT, my new duty station, my deployment, and Posts all over the world.

3. Saturday/Sunday/Monday are usually the worse and best time of my week. Why? Football. A true football player will tell you how much he loves the game even years after he last played it himself. A true football fan be a fan of football forever, even when he is 80 years old. For the joy, for the action, the thrill, whatever it is, we love football.

I love football.

"Everything I love is killing me" as Mr. Alan Jackson said it best in his song Everything I Love. And football sure is one of 'em. Like the one I talked about before, I envy and am extremely of those who still gets to play football. And when they bitch about how crazy practice was, I want to scream the same thing.

At least you can go out on the field with your teammates. At least you can go out and put that helmet on. At least you can put on 'em cleats. At least you still get to play.

At least...

4. Last year, during junior year, I went through a child scare. Meaning, this girl I got with told me she's late. If you know something about SCI, your chances of conceiving after the injury is dramatically lowered. While I was in rehab, they told me about it and though I never thought much of it then, I was thinking hard about it when the girl told me she was late. Could it be possible? Out of the chances, that I might have actually made something like this possible?

I found out later that she was in fact, pregnant. As I lay in bed one night, I was filled with all sorts of emotions. I was scared, worried, and in ways, excited. Just like the first time I had sex after my injury, it opened up a new doors for me that I can still do things despite this injury. That I can still have kids some day. It is not to say that I didn't worry about the girl, about what her parents think, what my parents think and whether or not we should actually keep the baby. It was crazy time but in ways, I was truly excited.

I never got to tell the girl what I think. I never got to tell her everything I know about my injury and conceiving. She told me later on she went and had an abortion.

I cried that night.

What if that was my only chance to conceive? What if something like this don't happen again? How could she have done it without talking to me? There was a lot of anger that night, though more sadness than anger. I sat at my desk and wrote a little note of which I eventually burn.

I'm sorry, whatever you'll going to be. Boy or girl, I'm sorry you never could be. I'm sorry I didn't have a chance to tell your Mom what I thought. I'm sorry I don't have the chance to show you how good of a father I can be. I'm sorry I let you down. I'm sorry.

So now...I may never know what happens. Whether or not I can have a kid some day is still unknown to me, but this incident will forever be in my mind and heart. And some day in the future, if I am being told I can't have kids, I'd look back at this incident and hating myself even more than I do now. Hating myself for losing the only chance of having a kid, a family, and a real good Dad.

I miss you, kiddo, and I'm sorry.

5. Sean's death hit close to home just how crazy cancer can do to anyone, let alone a kid. And I think it hit me harder than I expected.

The image of him gasping for air and asking for his parents are forever embedded in my mind. I've already had several dreams of Sean crying to me asking me why I couldn't help him, why I couldn't make him better.

I don't want to forget his face, his smile, and his laugh. But in turn, I don't wish to hear him cry every time I turn my head, I don't wish to see his shadow behind my chair, wondering why I can't make him better.

6. I truly hope this will never come true.

As a child, I would have nightmares of my Dad getting hurt while at a deployment. As I got older, those dreams faded and eventually came to a stop. Just before my injury (and still happens occasionally) I began having dreams of my family members getting killed in combat.

It was as if I am standing right next to them. And it scares me. Having this much family members (whether blood related or not) deployed right now, it scares me. I truly hope they stay safe and the dreams will never come true.

7. I love Sarah but I am deadly afraid of her, already.

I might have said this before on a lighter note but I am as serious as I was before. She is no more than 3 weeks old and I am already deadly afraid of her.

It's not her cry that gets to me. It's not her tears that gets to me, it's her. Or maybe it's me. It's a fear that one day, carrying her the wrong way will trigger a spasm or spasm just happens to kick in when I'm holding her. What if I drop her?

Don't get me wrong, I love her, I really do, I think she is the most adorable thing ever (and I'm not saying that because she's my sister) and I love holding her close. But I am still deadly afraid of dropping her.

If I do and something happens to her, I would never be able to live with myself. I wouldn't be living at all.

I'm not a transparent person at all and telling all this haven't even began to show transparency. But at least I'm trying...


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